A New Beginning
by kaileytmarie
Summary: TFP- Megatron is left to wander the newly rejuvenated Cybertron with only the ghosts of his past to keep him company when a message from an old friend brings to light the scheme of an ancient enemy to destroy the Cybertronian race. Can Megatron convince the Autobots to trust him? Or is any hope of redemption truly lost to him...
1. Chapter 1

Once, a long, long time ago, Megatron had a friend named Orion Pax. Brothers, they called each other. Their hopes and dreams for a free Cybertron were the same, or so they had started. Orion had considered Megatron his closest friend. Megatron had felt the same toward the librarian.

They spoke often of their political stands, more-so of their personal lives and the differences and commonalities between them. But often, when discussing philosophy with words of mouth, the simplest of looks would spark a light-hearted, unspoken conversation of seemingly meaningless things.

These were the conversations the ex-gladiator had cherished most. The conversations Megatron had secretly wished he could have again.

Now he stood atop the wreckage of a downed warship in the Badlands, deep frown etched on his face, remembering his last moments with the late Optimus Prime.

Megatron had expressed his desire to be tyrant king no more and in that final glance at the Autobot leader, Megatron had his last unspoken conversation...

_You've changed?_

_Don't look so surprised, librarian. You saw this side of me long before the war started._

_I had hoped to see it long after the end._

_You will sacrifice yourself?_

_It is the only way, Megatron._

_I will not forget, Optimus. Not again._

_Farewell... Brother._

Megatron left that day. He knew not where he would go or if he would ever again find a place where he could belong. He avoided any contact with other Cybertronians, a nearly impossible task with the Well of Allsparks constantly spewing new life.

Only once had he returned to the Nemesis, for the sake of stopping the constant pinging at the back of his mind. After some digging he found Soundwave trapped in a pocket dimension in the control room. Apparently the spymaster had found a way to send his master a distress call.

Upon freeing the half starved TIC he gave Soundwave the choice of leaving the Nemesis, never to cause chaos for anyone ever again, or turning himself in to the Autobots for sentencing of his crimes.

Megatron left, undiscovered and unnoticed by the Autobots, with Soundwave at his heels.

Megatron told Soundwave to depart, but still he was followed. He tried to shake his long time follower, but could not. During one flight he transformed mid-air, fell to the ground and turned to look the slender mech in the face, optics burning in annoyance.

"Soundwave, the Decepticons are no more. You are no longer obligated to follow me."

Soundwave stared back at Megatron for several long seconds. "No longer obligated," he echoed back.

Megatron glared at him, half annoyed and half confused. He decided to very calmly walk away. When he glanced over his shoulder he saw that Soundwave still followed a few paces behind.

Megatron spun around to glare at the spy. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"No longer obligated."

A pause. Soundwave stepped to Megatron's side, ready to follow. As a friend.

Megatron smiled. "Thank you, Soundwave."

After a few more days of aimless wandering, Megatron encouraged Soundwave to go and see the Well of Allsparks since he was obviously curious about it. Years of undying loyalty to Megatron meant persuasion was necessary to get the flier to go off on his own, but in the end, Megatron got his way.

He watched Soundwave disappear into the darkening sky and briefly wondered if he would ever see his—dare he say it?—friend again. Megatron shook the thought from his mind, transformed and flew fast and far.

* * *

><p><em>Megatron...<em>

Megaton strained to see through the heavy fog. Someone impossible was calling him.

_Megatron..._

"Optimus?"

_Have you forgotten me already, my friend?_

Megatron ran for the voice, but only found a heavier fog. It occurred to him that he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there. It also occurred to him that the voice he heard was not actually audible. It was more of an echo in the depths of his mind.

"Have you come to haunt me, Prime?"

The voice laughed and Megatron couldn't help smiling. He remembered the laugh of his librarian friend and felt... at peace.

_Cybertron is not yet free, my friend. There are still those who would see our beloved home destroyed._

"Why do you tell me these things?" It was as though living in a memory. The sudden desire to rise up and wage war, whether political or physical, in defense of freedom overwhelmed him.

_Cybertron still needs a leader..._

"I am not worthy, Optimus." Anger burned within his spark. "Because of me, our world is in ruin, our people divided, innocent lives destroyed, and you... You are lost to us."

_Are you still so pompous that you must take all the credit? _ The voice laughed. _Perhaps you truly are as naïve as you look._

Megatron laughed as he hadn't done since his days wandering the streets of Kaon with Orion Pax by his side. He felt something touch his shoulder, turned, and met the gaze of his long, lost friend. "I see the wit of Orion Pax has not been lost to you, Optimus. Not even in your passing."

"Are Orion and Optimus not one and the same, Megatron?"

Megatron smiled warmly at his friend. His brother. This was how they should have always been. Talking, laughing, jokingly insulting each other. How had he been so blind? Optimus was dead because he had been too prideful to admit his way of bringing about justification was flawed.

His smile faded. The Prime noticed.

"It was always meant to be this way, brother," Optimus began. "I can only hope that one day you will see that even in your darkest hour, there was hope. You brought about the circumstances that pushed a simple archivist to become a Prime. Even though you strayed from the path, you are still very much responsible for the abolition of the caste system and the dawning of Cyberton's new Golden Age. I only wish I could have seen this orchestration before..." His sentence trailed off as his attention seemed to be caught by something Megatron could not see.

The warlord longed to accept Optimus' words as true, but all he could see were the lives he crushed, the pain and destruction he had caused. The last unspoken conversation he and Optimus had had.

"Brother."

Megatron focused again on the echo of Optimus before him. He couldn't help smiling at the smirk that had seemed to make itself at home on the Prime's face.

"It would seem history has a way of repeating itself," he began, but was cut off by the gladiator's sudden burst of laughter. "Is something wrong?"

Megatron couldn't remember the last time he had felt so giddy. Seeing the ever serious Optimus Prime with the grin of a mischievous new build plastered across his facial plating had caused the vigorously bubbling spring of joy within him to overflow and overwhelm him to the point of idiocy.

He tried to gain control of his emotions, but one look at the Prime, who was now trying desperately not to laugh, and the two, war-hardened leaders became like Sparklings who had had a few too many energon treats.

Minutes passed and the laughter finally died down.

Megaton looked into Optimus optics, smiling contently. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

The Prime looked puzzled. "I..." Again he seemed to be focused on something just outside of Megatron's view. His face grew solemn. "Do you know that I have forgiven you?" he asked, focusing on his friend once more.

Megatron tensed. He wanted to look away.

"Megatron."

A pause. "How?" the gladiator whispered. "How could you forgive me?"

Optimus smiled. "I have. That's all that matters now."

Megatron returned the smile.

"Now, my friend, I haven't much time left. And there are many important things I wish to discuss with you." He paused to think. "Enemies will rise against Cybertron in the near future. There is one who will rise from the Well that will lead our brethren into battle once more. But without the Matrix of Leadership to bestow the wisdom of the ancients upon him, he will need someone to guide him down the right path."

The Prime waited for Megatron's response. When he received none, he continued. "I firmly believe that you would do well with this task, my friend. You lead me once. Though you did stray, you have found the path again. I ask that you become that which you were always meant to be and save Cybertron from the coming destruction."

Moments passed without sound or reaction. Finally, Megatron spoke. "You have more faith in me than I in myself." He looked away. "How will I know the Sparkling?"

"You will know." Optimus tilted his head. "Do not be so hard on yourself. There are plenty of others who, unfortunately, will take care of that for you."

Megatron nodded. "Is that it then?"

The Prime sighed. "For now," he answered sadly. "Learn from the past. This is a new world. A new beginning."

"I wish you could enjoy it with us."

Optimus placed a servo on Megatron's shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, paused, closed it again.

The world began to fade.

"Good bye, Optimus," the ex-gladiator said, watching the Prime's bright blue optics wane to grey.

"Good bye, brother."

* * *

><p>Megatron stood, listening to the sound of shuffling pedes outside. He placed a servo on the rusted wall of the dilapidated structure he was currently using for shelter. Surely Soundwave had not found him that easily.<p>

The shuffling stopped and was abruptly followed by a clang. Megatron slowly stepped outside.

He was taken aback at the sight before him. Moving quickly, he carried the body back into the safety of his shelter, scanning the sky for threats as he did so.

He laid the beaten husk down on the slab he had been using as a berth and took in the sight.

Energon ran freely from the severed fuel lines. This mangled mech wouldn't survive much longer.

He placed a servo on the mech's open chest plate and attempted to pinch one of the fuel lines shut so as not to allow any more leaking.

"Soundwave." Megatron spoke quietly over the comm link. "See if you can find some medical supplies and come to my position at once."

A single ping let the warlord know he had been heard.

He looked back at the unconscious victim. Pangs of guilt stabbed at his spark.

The Seeker's armor had been savagely ripped from his body. Large gashes along his torso had exposed sensitive wiring, some of which had apparently been cut through. His left optic had been sliced open and both of his arms were crushed. But what really caught Megatron's attention, what caused him to shudder just slightly, were Starscream's wings. They simple weren't there anymore.

He had felt the jagged metal when he carried Starscream in, but only now did he realize what it was.

The claw marks on his body told Megatron what had happened. The Predacons had found the Seeker and taken their revenge. But ripping his wings from his body? Megatron had never allowed any of Starscream's punishments to go that far.

It had nothing to do with pain, embarrassment, humiliation. A Seekers wings were, well, they made him a Seeker. They were magnificent! So sensitive to even the slightest change in aerial vibrations. Megatron would admit it was a quality he envied. To have such a gift ripped from one's very back would not only be excruciatingly painful, but a fate worse than death.

Movement pulled Megatron from his thoughts. Starscream was waking.

"S-Sky..." His back arched and his mouth opened in a silent wail then his body went limp.

"Starscream." Megatron said perhaps a bit too harshly. "Starscream, stay awake."

The Seeker's optics flickered twice before shuttering off.

"Soundwave," the gladiator's voice rumbled angrily. "Forget the supplies. Get me a medic!"


	2. Chapter 2

Being an Autobot didn't change him all that much. He was still snarky, shrewd, egotistical, and maintained a rather large superiority complex. He schemed. He cheated. He lied. He put himself before others when not under the careful watch of Ultra Magnus. He took his role seriously, but didn't hesitate to milk it for all it was worth.

"Relax, Bumblebee, it's just a little once around the block. It's not like I'm deserting or anything."

The black and yellow mech looked apprehensive. "I don't know, Knock Out." He glanced back at the screens he was supposed to be monitoring. "You are the only _real_ medic on the planet. What if-"

"Precisely my point!" Knock Out's optics narrowed dangerously. "I slave day after day assessing, sorting and filing datawork. I spend every waking moment either under the extreme pressure of being sole physician on this planet while attempting to resurrect bots who should by all means be dead or wearing a smile on my face as I waste my time tending to the most menial repairs that even the halfwit trainees you and Magnus keep sending me could accomplish without a second thought!" He threw his arms up dramatically. "Speaking of which, who decided that a narcissistic medic such as myself—of Decepticon origin, I might add—was the best suited for instructing the new sparks in the medical profession? Why not bridge up that old crank-case of yours? Clearly he is more trustworthy than I, whom you 'Bots keep under constant surveillance even _after_ I have proved my loyalty time and time again!"

Bumblebee remained quiet as he waited for Knock Out to finish his ranting. It was annoying, but it was a part of who he was. Optimus would have accepted this fact with patience. Bumblebee was determined to do the same.

"How long will I be expected to play the part of a perfect, little Autobot slave before I am trusted to go on a simple drive without need of a babysitter? And furthermore, how exactly does keeping me on such a short leash imply your precious principals of freedom to the Newsparks? And wipe that smirk off your face before I do it for you!"

Knock Out huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, reminding Bumblebee of Miko when she didn't get her way. The scout turned warrior couldn't help grinning at his former foe.

Knock Out was funny.

"Sorry," he mumbled, attempting to take on a more solemn disposition. "You were saying?"

Knock Out frowned. "I was saying," he started with a growl. "You can't expect me to spend my life as your prisoner of war. I demand to be granted freedom equal to that of everyone else on this planet!"

A pause.

Bumblebee waited for Knock Out to continue. When he didn't, Bumblebee turned his attention back to the monitors. He placed his servos on the console and began searching for a specific file.

"Didn't you hear me?" Knock Out all but screamed.

Bumblebee smiled. He tapped the console and watched as an itinerary log popped up on the main screen, followed by a recent security feed of one red Aston Martin pulling up to the hospitals loading docks, transforming and sneaking in after a night of racing.

The yellow bot turned to face his colleague with a mischievous grin.

"Typically, when someone wants to be trusted they don't shirk their responsibilities, lie to their teammates or sneak out. All of which, you did."

Knock Out's brow furrowed angrily. "Typically, medics aren't reduced to overworked, underpaid slave laborers whose only means of clearing their mind is skipping their energon rations in order to slip out into the darkness of night for a ten minute drive."

Bumblebee shrugged and returned his attention to the monitors once more. "Drive, then."

Knock Out watched the young warrior cautiously. Drive? Just like that? No threats? No conditions? No favors? "What's your angle, bug?"

Bumblebee momentarily tensed at the nickname, but otherwise didn't show any signs of offence. He shook his helm. "No angle, Knock Out. You're right. You should be treated the way everyone else gets treated." He pulled up a new security feed and watched its contents with rapt interest. Knock Out leaned in to see what was happening, but before he could make out the scene Bumblebee had switched the feed again. Bumblebee glanced up at him. "But only if you're pulling your weight just like everyone else."

The medic rolled his optics. Not quite an angle, but pretty close by Autobot standards he supposed. "Fine, fine. I'll give a seminar on optical surgery or whatever." He spun on his heals and strutted out of the room, feeling as though he had accomplished some great task by convincing a Bot to let a Con run free for the day. And without any kind of reverse manipulation on Bumblebee's part.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Doc! Wait up!"<p>

Knock Out froze in place, optics widening in horror.

_No. No, no, no. He wouldn't! Would he?_

The orange and yellow Sparkling slid to a stop just barely ahead of him. He had grown a significant amount now that his frame was fully developed. A bit of a late bloomer, this one. He stood a full helm taller than Knock Out; his shoulders had broadened a bit, though he still maintained a sleek design.

"Hot Rod," he greeted, attempting to mask the irritation in his voice. It was a skill he had become quite good at over the past few months since Cybertron had been reborn. "What… What are you doing here?"

The Sparkling met his gaze and smiled excitedly. "Bee said you were going for a drive and I've been stuck in the record hall sorting files all day—well, I guess I'm not really stuck since I volunteered for it, but you know what I mean—and he said he thought it would be good for me to get out and Magnus never lets me do anything, but Bee said he would cover for me and- Mfft!"

Knock Out slapped a servo over the Sparkling's mouth and frowned. "Honestly, Hot Rod, you're as bad as that Blurr fellow sometimes." He removed his servo and crossed his arms over his chest. "So he did have an angle," the medic growled.

"What?"

Knock Out shot the Sparkling an icy glare. "I don't need a babysitter, Hot Rod. And I especially don't need a stupid, overactive Newspark tagging along to report every little thing I do!"

Hot Rod shuttered his optics. "But…" He looked confused. Not to mention a little hurt. "I'm not going to… Never mind," he said, offering a small smile and turning to leave.

Knock Out sighed. Ever since his first real conversation with the Sparkling, he had never been able to turn him away. "Wait."

Hot Rod spun on his heels, beaming. "I can come?"

Knock Out shrugged. "Sure. Whatever." He smirked. "Keep up, kid."

* * *

><p>Soundwave considered his mission carefully. He did not know the nature of it. Only that Megatron had seemed agitated, almost panicked, when he had sent the request for immediate medical assistance. Soundwave started piecing together different scenarios that might render such a reaction, but then decided that such ideas were of no use to him at the moment and quickly put the thoughts to rest.<p>

Where could he find a medic?

Naturally, of course, the Autobot CMO would be on earth for another couple orbital cycles, leaving Knock Out as Head of Medicine on Cybertron until his return.

Soundwave had learned their routines while trapped in the Shadowzone.

Knock Out would be the most qualified Cybertronian at the moment to deal with whatever ailment had befallen Megatron, but convincing him to lend aid now that he had deserted the Decepticon cause for the Autobot life might be a challenge. Soundwave would have to watch him carefully as he operated.

The spymaster flew high over the newly constructed hospital. It took only a second to link himself with the building's database. The Autobots really needed to work on their security systems. He patched into the mainframe and momentarily disrupted the sensors while he landed and entered from the top floor.

He traveled through three levels using the security feed to ensure he took routes that would keep his presence a secret, but found no sign of the former Decepticon doctor. He checked the logs twice, but could not find anything to convince him Knock Out was not still in the building. Then again, the medic had always had a tendency to run off without permission or notice. He scanned over the feeds of the day, finding nothing even remotely interesting, until he came across a small, red bot storming out the rear exit.

Soundwave navigated through the corridors until he found the main control room. There, after a quick shock and drop to the security drones, he was able to use the system to hack into the Autobots' super computer: Teletran 1. He replayed Megatron's message to himself as a reminder of his necessity for promptness and began combing through the mess of surveillance footage for the entirety of the populated city until he came across an image of his quarry leaving Autobot Headquarters with a Cybertronian Soundwave did not recognize racing after him.

A quiet pinging at the back of his mind managed to catch his attention.

Teletran 1 had detected the security breach and notified the Autobots. They would be arriving shortly.

Soundwave scrubbed his image from the mainframe, tore from the room and out the nearest exit.

Now to find Knock Out.

* * *

><p>Heat.<p>

That's all he knew.

The searing heat rippled through his frame, never giving him a moment's rest.

The world was blinking around him. In and out. In and out. He knew his body was moving. He might have even been speaking, or at least making noise, but it was all just a distant dream.

Heat. Awful, painful heat.

Someone was speaking to him.

Stay? Stay here?

Why would anyone want him to stay? No one wanted him around.

His wings hurt.

Don't? Now they didn't want him to stay?

He gasped and clawed at the ground below him. Was he on the ground? No. He was on a tower. He was at Darkmount.

No.

No, he wasn't at Darkmount anymore. He was in the ruins. He was on a berth.

How did he get here?

His vision returned, albeit blurry. Someone was standing over him. Someone familiar.

He was speaking.

Should he be afraid? Of course he should. He was supposed to be afraid.

So why wasn't he?

How did he get here?

The world faded again.

More talking. This time angrier. More desperate.

His wings hurt.


End file.
